


Wind me up and watch me go

by Castielific



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, wet!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielific/pseuds/Castielific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek declared his intentions to renovate the Hale house, no one was more enthusiastic and willing to help than Stiles. Derek knew right away that Stiles on a construction site could only end in a disaster…and probably a trip to the hospital. </p><p>He wasn’t exactly wrong, although there is less blood and mayhem that he would have thought in the end. </p><p>****************</p><p>For HairyBean who wanted a fic with some wet!Stiles</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wind me up and watch me go

**Author's Note:**

> This is a response to a tumblr-prompt sent by Hairybean on tumblr. 
> 
> The title is from Bad Influence by Pink

When Derek declared his intentions to renovate the Hale house, no one was more enthusiastic and willing to help than Stiles. Derek knew right away that Stiles on a construction site could only end in a disaster…and probably a trip to the hospital.

 He wasn’t exactly wrong, although there is less blood and mayhem than he would have thought in the end.

 

His first surprise comes on the very first day, the very first second he sees Stiles.

The teenager jumps out of his jeep and Derek drops his sledgehammer on his own foot in surprise, because what the hell is he _wearing_?

 The young man is wearing a black wife beater and when the hell did Stiles get those muscles? He’s always wearing layers and layers of clothes, and Derek has always imagined him being lanky, but those _shoulders_. They’re large, probably as broad as Derek’s, but there’s a definite contrast between Stiles’ shoulders and his slim, but unexpectedly muscular waist. Muscles Derek wasn’t expecting at all.

 He’s blinking at a beauty mark on the sculpted point of Stiles’ right shoulder, frowning at it like it has personally offended him when he realizes that the reason for the glaring clarity is because Stiles is now right in front of him.

Derek blinks out of his daze, noticing the pink blush on Stiles’ cheeks and the way he’s nervously scratching the back of his head - and Derek is _not_ going to stare at his armpit hair like a creep…Or admit that he did. No way.  

 He grabs the first thing he sees, throwing the pair of gloves at Stiles’ face before mumbling about getting to work and walking away as fast as possible because _what_ was that?

 It’s Stiles, the most annoying teenager Derek has ever met. He’s not supposed…Derek is not supposed to…. The werewolf grunts, swinging his sledgehammer so hard into the wall that the whole thing falls down after only three hits.

 

******************************

 He doesn’t know who thought it was a good idea to give a sledgehammer to Stiles. He certainly wouldn’t have, but that’s probably because he’s been avoiding the teenager the whole time they’ve been working.

 He’s not surprised when he hears a loud bang followed by a yelp, Stiles isn’t exactly known for his coordination. Derek’s just been waiting for the first mishap.

 He still drops his own tools and runs to investigate hoping that Stiles isn’t seriously injured.

 When he sees Stiles, he stops so abruptly that dust flies around him.

 The teenager isn’t hurt. He doesn’t look happy and he’s definitively screwed up if the water jet coming from the gaping pipe is any indication, but at least he doesn’t look injured.

 Stiles grimaces when he sees Derek, probably expecting to get yelled at for breaking a water pipe.

 Derek isn’t mad, right now. He’s not even close to anger.

 Because Stiles is still standing under the water jet, wiping water out of his eyes and looking like a guilty puppy. His hair is plastered to his forehead, water is trickling down his chin and his clothes are sticking to his body, revealing things that Derek didn’t think he was even interested in until that morning.

 Because there are _abs_.

 Not as defined as Derek’s, but a flat stomach, pecs, and _nipples_ , for god’s sake.

 Derek would like to be able to say that he doesn’t stare at what is being revealed by Stiles’ soaking pants, but he’s apparently lost his mind and will never be able to forget that vision.

 When Stiles coughs, Derek has to physically shake his head to stop staring. He feels his ears burn and forces a scowl on his face because he’d rather be perceived as an asshole than a pervert.

 “Are you going to stay under there all day or are you planning on actually doing something about it?” Derek grumbles.

 Stiles opens his mouth and the water jet stops.

 “Scott had gone to cut the water off,” he explains, pointing sheepishly to some direction Scott must have disappeared to.

 Stiles shakes his head, trying to clear the droplets still sticking to his skin and eyelashes. When that doesn’t work, he uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Derek’s brain might freeze for a moment, because _happy trail_. From here, he can actually see the v-line of Stile’s hips and the bulge in his…

 “Get back to work and try not to fuck up again,” Derek growls, turning away and leaving Stiles dripping wet and confused.

 

******************************

 It’s two hours later before Derek sees Stiles again and is actually coming to tell him to go home and get some rest when he stops dead in his tracks on the porch.

 “You have got to be kidding me,” he mumbles.

 Isaac and Scott raise their heads from where they’re throwing debris from the house into a truck. They follow his gaze to where Stiles is working and, a few seconds later Derek notices  them, from the corner of his eye, disappear inside the house.

 Stiles is bending forward, picking up small pieces of wood and throwing them into a wheelbarrow.

 And he’s shirtless.

 His skin is pale, moles creating enthralling patterns on his back. His shoulders are a little pink from working in the sun the whole day, and sweat makes his skin glisten.

Some stray droplets of perspiration are sliding from his hairline, along his neck, between his shoulder blades and along his backbone before they’re absorbed by the waistband of his jeans.

Derek desperately wants to _lick_ them.

 What. The. Hell.

 You can say whatever you want about Derek, but he’s always been the kind of guy to face trouble head-on.

He isn’t like Stiles who’ll think about a problem for days considering all the possibilities.

No, Derek sees a problem and plows right toward it.

 Which is probably why he’s walking with determination toward Stiles right now. Because Stiles is causing him unexpected problems. With his dick. And his mind. But mostly his dick, which is really confused right now.

 Derek isn’t the pining kind. Brooding, maybe, but not pining. If he sees something he wants, he either gets it or he don’t, he doesn’t dwell on the decision-making. Either it’s for him, or it’s not.

And the best way to know is always to try it first.

 That’s why he grabs Stiles’ waist as soon as he’s within reach, bringing the young man against him.

 Stiles gasps when their torsos crash together and Derek takes this opportunity to catch his mouth, delving right in. Stiles doesn’t tense, doesn’t try to reject him. He does try to say something despite Derek’s insistent mouth on his, but it only takes him three seconds to give up.

The hand that was scrambling on Derek’s back finally finds purchase and Stiles squeezes him before he suddenly melts, putting all of his weight on the werewolf.

Stiles takes a moment to respond to the kiss, and when he does it lacks finesse. It’s clumsy, messy, but unexpectedly sexy in the way he gives it everything he can. It’s not perfect, but it’s so very _Stiles_ that it makes Derek’s head spin.

 When Derek releases him, Stiles nearly falls right on his knees, legs weak, and Derek has to catch him by the elbows to keep him up. Stiles presses his face right into Derek’s neck and the werewolf raises his arm to encircle Stiles’ waist.

 They just breathe together for a moment, hearts pounding.

 Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s torso to push back a little and looks up. His eyes are wide, if a little glazed; his mouth is bright pink and still a little wet. He’s panting.

 “What was that about?” He asks, his face arranged in a mixture of awe and confusion.

 “Beta-test,” Derek responds, eyes roaming on the other man’s face. He’s got sunburn on his nose and Derek hates the fact that he finds it _cute_. That word isn’t even supposed to be in his vocabulary.

 Stiles frowns for a second, like he’s hesitating between being pissed or confused.

 “Did I pass?” He finally asks, wary. 

 “With honors,” Derek says with a smirk, his hand squeezing Stiles’ waist.

 “What’s my prize?” Stiles asks with a grin.

 Their hips brush together for a second, making them both gasp.

 “Whatever you want,” Derek responds, sliding his knee between the other man’s thighs.

 Stiles lets out a little sound and Derek can’t help but catch his bottom lip in his mouth, sucking for a second before releasing it.

 “That’s a very long list, you know,” Stiles moans, eyes closing as his hips seek friction against the werewolf’s.

 “I look forward to-“

 “Please don’t finish that sentence!” Isaac shouts at the same time that Scott screams “Oh gross!”

 Derek turns toward the house where Isaac is looking at them with wide eyes and Scott is trying to cover his eyes and his ears at the same time…unsuccessfully. In his flailing, Stiles’ best friend ends up falling on a bag of cement that promptly explodes in a cloud of white dust, covering the two werewolves from head to toe.

 Stiles bursts out laughing at Isaac’s glare and Scott’s sheepish look.

 When the glare turns toward him, Stiles tries to hide his laughing face in Derek’s neck. Derek smirks at the two betas before biting teasingly at Stiles’ ear. The young man moans, promptly followed by the sound of Scott’s gag and Isaac’s dramatic sigh. Those are good sounds though, happy sounds.

 To Derek, it sounds like a new beginning in more ways than one.

 Derek likes it, so he slides his hand to Stiles’ ass and basks in the outraged shouts that immediately follow Stiles’ little gasp.  

 


End file.
